Snowbound Blood: Epilogue/Transcript

Act 1.

??????: Hello there.

??????: Are you listening, deputies?

??????: I know you are. I can hear your shallow, panicked breaths.

??????: Is mine not the voice you expected?

??????: Oh, the questions that must be racing through your pitiable little minds.

??????: The answers you seek, at length, have already one foot in the grave, with the other soon to follow.

??????: But I've one to spare, in brief.

??????: Just a single, solitary word for you to ponder on the eve of your oncoming oblivion.

??????: Listen close, regulators. This is the last you'll ever hear of me.

??????: Ready?

??????: ...

??????: Checkmate.

A crunchy click yields to static, punctuated with a solemn disconnection ping.

The silence that follows is all-enveloping. Wind on gravel, dust scraping against concrete. A howling echo of distant nightlife reverberates through the empty monorail station, like a ghost unknowingly mourning its own death.

You consider the train car where Secily Iopara barely managed to save a hogtied Necron Exmort from a ticking time bomb set by her quarry, the perpetrator at the center of Operation Snowbound Blood: Aumtzi Maught.

A short while ago, Secily told Oricka Rourst and yourself to come here and help Necron. Then she ran off to...

Somewhere.

Your finger slips away from your earpiece. A spring of razor wire coils ever tighter in your chest. A thermite singularity, melting a hole straight through you.

It takes all of a breath to swallow that cutting, burning heat and set the whole mess aside. On any other night, the swiftness of your compartmentalization might give you pause.

But your name is Mshiri Libeta, and you've been expecting this for a long, long time.

Before receiving that mysterious broadcast, Necron had been running from alley to alley, shouting Secily's name while Oricka sat cross-legged with a computer on her lap. She's trying to get a fix on the missing regulator's location through YVES.

His wounds are still fresh. Whichever villain attempted to drag him to — presumably — where Secily was taken must be in a much worse state.

Despite his recent battle damage, he seems far too focused on the current matter at hand to notice.

Now they both stare at you, and then at each other, frozen and confused.

Exmort jogs back across the street to rejoin you under the monorail's tattered awning.

NECRON: †† Who in the blazes was that? ††

NECRON: †† Did some two-bit hacker just gank our line AGAIN?! ††

ORICKA: OH i built her communicator with a unique carrier signal! if i can do a spectrum analysis—

NECRON: ††† Less time chatterboxin' babe, we're on the clock here! †††

ORICKA: right right right yeah gimme a sec... :sweat:

Your lips purse. Oricka taps away at her computer in a panic. Unease claws at the edge of your thoughts.

Necron starts pacing in a short circle, infrequently glancing up at you expectantly.

NECRON: †† What're your thoughts, Miss Shiri? Got any idea where she mighta run off to? ††

MSHIRI: . ...

NECRON: †† I'm thinkin' that slimy bastard's got her holed up in one of these traphives— ††

ORICKA: oh no...

Her voice trails down at the end. Necron almost trips over himself trying to reach her side.

NECRON: †† What's the sitch? ††

ORICKA: ident confirmed, the transmission def came from stressilys earpiece :worried:

NECRON: †† Tell me you got a location on that sucker. ††

ORICKA: wtf!! the trackings blocked :grrr:

NECRON: †† What do you mean it's blocked?! ††

ORICKA: i mean theres no location metadata :shoutpole:

ORICKA: they mustve disabled—

NECRON: ††† Try somethin' else, then! Can't you like, I dunno, triangle the signal or somethin'? †††

ORICKA: i already did that! what kinda noobie do you take me for? :rolling_ganderbulbs:

NECRON: †††† Then give with the skinny already!! ††††

She turns her screen towards the both of you. On it shines a map highlighting all the communication hubs throughout the Stronghold and across Repiton.

Dozens of locations are lit up with Secily's sigil, all showing the exact same timecode.

ORICKA: hate to say it but...

ORICKA: she could be anywhere :frowning:

NECRON: ††† But she was just here! They couldn't have gone that far, right? †††

MSHIRI: .not unless she was subdued and transported elsewhere

NECRON: †† ... ††

ORICKA: ...

When the matesprits meet your gaze, you see in their eyes a deep desire to argue. You watch their breathing accelerate, their body language grow more anxious.

You've seen this before. You know it as intimately as any other sensation you've come to master in your time as a TEMP.

NECRON: †† Well, what're we doin' here then? Lollygaggin' like a buncha deadbeats? If our gal's got herself kidnapped— ††

MSHIRI: .checkmate

NECRON: †† Huh? ††

MSHIRI: .the voice we just heard

MSHIRI: ..it said checkmate

ORICKA: :cold_sweat:

NECRON: †† A bozo with an axe to grind'll say anythin' to get a reaction. What's your point? ††

MSHIRI: .you know what my point is, necron

A dreadful knowledge percolates in the air between their shivering bodies, the chill they share defying the artificial tolerability of the Stronghold's climate control.

ORICKA: i...

ORICKA: ...

ORICKA: :anguished:

Her wavering intonation barely rises above the background noise. Necron huffs and crosses his arms.

NECRON: ††† I can't believe you two! †††

NECRON: ††† I mean, you ain't seriously suggesting... †††

When he sees that you are seriously suggesting, his expression sours and he hocks a rebellious loogie into the dirt.

NECRON: ††† No way, I don't buy it. †††

ORICKA: so you think that was just a bluff to get us off their tail?

NECRON: ††† It's gotta be! †††

NECRON: ††† They're messin' with us. That's all these daggone cultists know how to do. Play stupid mindgames and get us second guessin' ourselves! †††

ORICKA: i guess so... :skeptical:

NECRON: ††† I know so! That Noxious fella jerked your chain around plenty, 'member? †††

ORICKA: of course i do ronny but that wasnt his voice

NECRON: ††† Well hell darlin', we don't know that! He sure fooled me with yours not even a couple hours ago. †††

NECRON: †††† Come on, Secily's gotten outta worse scrapes than this! It's obviously a trick, gotta be. ††††

ORICKA: that guy didnt sound like much of a trickster to me :doubtful:

NECRON: ††† What's that gotta do with anythin'? They're all liars, the damned freaks! Just wanna make us give up, or... †††

NECRON: †††† Or... ††††

NECRON: ††††† Hell, what do I know what's goin through the demented mind of some lowlife social deviant?! A lie's a lie and I ain't about to give up on the sturdiest, fightingest gal I ever— †††††

MSHIRI: .shes dead

He looks at you like a kicked barkbeast. Like you've slipped a knife between his ribs.

Oricka coughs out a sullen, surprised sob, and covers her mouth with both hands.

You wish more than anything to give comfort. To placate with hypotheticals and possibilities. To pay lip service to the technicality that none of you know for certain that the worst has truly come to pass.

But you've been around this block before. You've seen what happens when comfort overrides truth.

MSHIRI: .secily iopara is dead

NECRON: †† You're wrong. ††

MSHIRI: .she is gone

NECRON: †† Stop saying that! ††

MSHIRI: .we dont have time to play pretend

NECRON: †† Come on, Shiri. You can't honestly believe those crazed lunatics— ††

MSHIRI: .would kill the chief regulator who has plagued their operations for blinks on end?

MSHIRI: ..would torment her survivors with an infuriatingly cryptic epitaph?

MSHIRI: ...i find that quite easy to believe actually

NECRON: ††††† ... †††††

The twitch of muscles beneath his cheeks, the dance of agony and raging denial — you watch it unfold like a car crash in motion.

He grinds his teeth as he speaks.

NECRON: †† I'm not givin' up on her. ††

Shallow, rapid breathing. Necron arcs his back and shouts to the sky with all his might.

NECRON: †††† YOU HEAR ME YOU SIMPERING CLOWNS?! I'M NOT FALLING FOR ANY MORE OF YOUR FUCKIN' LIES! ††††

ORICKA: we were too late :hourglass: :frown:

NECRON: †††† WHERE ARE YOU? I KNOW YOU'RE LISTENIN', SO COME OUTTA THE SHADOWS AND FACE ME ALREADY!! ††††

ORICKA: i shouldve grabbed the whole crew and beelined straight here as soon as your signal dropped...

ORICKA: this is all my fault...

NECRON: ††† Like hell it is! I'm supposed to be her partner on the battlefield! If it wasn't for that slimy bastard's dirty tricks... †††

NECRON: ††† I was s'posed to defend her. Instead she wasted time having to save MY sorry ass, while the whole embarrassin' debacle was broadcast on live TV! †††

NECRON: ††† I failed her. †††

NECRON: ††† I fuckin'— †††

He wheels back his mechanical arm and plows it into a concrete wall, then again, and again, punctuating each blow with a full-throated scream.

NECRON: ††††† DAMN IT! DAMN IT! DAMN IT! †††††

His head slumps against the cracked, crumbling cement, gritting his teeth, eyes squeezed shut.

NECRON: ††† It should've been me bleedin' out in the cold somewhere, not her. †††

Oricka reaches out to him, but can't seem to will her legs into standing up.

ORICKA: dont say that! that wouldnt be any better!! :steamed:

NECRON: †† I'm sorry hon, it's just... ††

Necron knocks his fleshy palm uselessly against the wall. He tries to wipe the tears from his cheeks, but the dirt on his hands just turns them to mud.

NECRON: ††† This ain't over. I'm gonna track these suckers down and tear 'em limb from limb until I find her! †††

MSHIRI: .you will do no such thing

NECRON: †††† WHY NOT?! ††††

MSHIRI: .because it's not what secily would have wanted

MSHIRI: ..she would rather her partner keep his head and focus on the bigger picture

NECRON: ††† I... †††

NECRON: †††† AAGHHH!! ††††

NECRON: †††† SHE DON'T GET A CHOICE IN THE MATTER! If she's still out there, if there's even a chance she's still alive — ††††

MSHIRI: .but she did get a choice

MSHIRI: ..and this is where it led

MSHIRI: ...this is where it was always going to lead

MSHIRI: ....she made sure of that with every stubborn step

You lay a comforting hand on his back. Necron flinches away from it with a growl and storms off, kicking rocks, arguing with air.

No point trying to reason with him now, you think. Best to let the rage run its course.

In the meantime, you turn your attention to the silently weeping Oricka. You descend to your knees beside her, your fingers entwined in your lap.

ORICKA: this is what i get for waiting to be told what to do

ORICKA: i had a feeling you know? when the pirate broadcast started and all our comms went haywire, i knew something bad was gonna happen...

ORICKA: but i ignored it! i convinced myself i was just being paranoid and kept on sitting there waiting for orders like a dummy

MSHIRI: .this was your role in the operation oricka

MSHIRI: ..you did exactly what you were supposed to do

ORICKA: but its not what ses would have done!

ORICKA: if it was her in my place, the minute she had that bad feeling...

ORICKA: i was a coward for waiting

ORICKA: i could have saved her if id just listened to my gut!

You pull her into your arms and let her cry into your shoulder. Her tears are warm, and she clings to you like a raft going over a waterfall.

MSHIRI: .it is tempting to rely on signs and portents

MSHIRI: ..but when we remember those bad feelings that turned out to be correct

MSHIRI: ...we forget all the ones that came to nothing

MSHIRI: ....it was the braver thing for you to wait

MSHIRI: .....you did as best you could given the actionable knowledge in your possession

ORICKA: thats not true

ORICKA: the body knows

ORICKA: its like a seismometer for tragedy, and im the hapless scientist who saw the warning signs and just let it happen anyway!!!

MSHIRI: .that is simply untrue

MSHIRI: ..if you had been here the only difference would be the addition of your death on top of hers

ORICKA: i don't think i can let myself believe that...

MSHIRI: .why not?

ORICKA: because it means they beat us! just straight up and down, start to finish, we got played.

ORICKA: it means she got played and...

ORICKA: and she lost

ORICKA: ses never loses, right? :confounded:

MSHIRI: .im sorry to say oricka

MSHIRI: ..secily lost far more often than she won

MSHIRI: ...they just happened to be the kinds of losses that wouldnt show up on a mission report

ORICKA: so the whole operation was a lost cause? :sniffle:

You stare at her wordlessly. It's a question you've pondered on more than one occasion, especially when Secily was asleep in your arms. You decide to give the answer that she would have given, if she ever had the chance.

MSHIRI: .it was never a lost cause

MSHIRI: ..it wont be until we are all dead

You rise to your feet, and pull Oricka up with you.

Just then, a loud blast reverberates through the ruins. Oricka yelps.

Several yards away, Necron has blasted a hole in the ground with his boomstick arm. He's shouting, screaming, blue tears staining his cheeks, though his expression is in denial of the weeping.

MSHIRI: .necron

MSHIRI: ..that is enough

He turns on you, again betrayed, marching up to you like a freshly reduplicated wriggler throwing a tantrum. Oricka puts herself between you, but seems uncertain as to whose side she's taking.

NECRON: ††† Enough?? Not by a damn sight. Nuh-uh, no ma'am, I'm just gettin' started! †††

NECRON: ††† I'm gonna find those cantankerous lily-livered zealots and give em somethin' to REALLY pray about! †††

NECRON: ††† I'm gonna bring the pain down so hard and so fast they'll be beggin' me for mercy. †††

NECRON: ††† And when I find the sonuvabitch that did this you best believe they'll be telling horror stories about it in the collective unconscious! †††

MSHIRI: .perhaps you will

MSHIRI: ..but not tonight

NECRON: ††† No offense Miss Shiri, but I ain't askin'. †††

NECRON: ††† I've had it up to here playing nice with these scoundrels. It's time to get mean. †††

NECRON: ††† You're with me, ain'tcha sugar? †††

ORICKA: ummmm :grimacing:

Oricka wavers, glancing back at you with uncertainty.

NECRON: ††† Those're just nerves talking. All we need is a solid plan, and lots of guns! We can get both real easy! †††

NECRON: ††† Come on. You trust me, don't you? †††

ORICKA: i trust you more than anyone ronny!

ORICKA: thats why i cant let you do something as STUPID as running off to get yourself killed!

ORICKA: this isnt your run of the mill mob of disorganized scumbags, these guys have resources

ORICKA: we had no idea what we were up against till now

ORICKA: and acting all gung ho to try and fix that isnt going to make the situation any better...

Necron is flabbergasted. You doubt Oricka has ever had to tell him that their usual methodology has its flaws, but right now, panic has completely taken over.

ORICKA: i need you! i dont want to lose anyone else :pleading_shrimp:

NECRON: ††† Neither do I, darlin', but we've got a duty here!

She shakes her head and presses a firm fist against his chest.

ORICKA: our duty is to each other, remember?

For a long stretch of moments, it seems like he could storm off on his own at the drop of a pin.

Finally, his shoulders slouch, and he pulls Oricka into a big hug. What they whisper to each other, if anything, is inaudible to you.

They end the embrace hand in hand and face you, eyes sparkling at the edges.

NECRON: ††† Fine. What's the play? †††

MSHIRI: .we have to inform the heir

NECRON: †† What? ††

MSHIRI: .sestro and hamifi

MSHIRI: ..we have to tell them as soon as possible

ORICKA: GROAAAAAN

ORICKA: shouldnt they know already?

MSHIRI: .im not sure

MSHIRI: ..but my gut tells me they dont

NECRON: †† And then what? We just wipe our hands and hope the numbskulls at Corporate'll give her justice? ††

You feel a spike of frustration, and immediately tamp it down.

It would take dangerously little to push Necron right back onto a path of self-destruction, and ultimately this has nothing to do with how you feel.

This is about him, and his need for a light at the end of this particular tunnel.

So you wield Secily's conviction like a flashlight and tell him what you want to believe.

MSHIRI: .this is not the end of our fight

MSHIRI: ..if anything this is only the beginning

MSHIRI: ...every moment we waste indulging in rank histrionics is an advantage to our enemies

MSHIRI: ....we have a responsibility now

MSHIRI: .....not just to this world and its enduring survival

MSHIRI: ......but to each other

MSHIRI: .......secily brought us all together

MSHIRI: ........let us honor her memory by avoiding her mistakes

NECRON: †† That's all well and good, but someone's got an express delivery of comeuppance headed to their steeple. ††

MSHIRI: .i have every confidence that you will return this violent favor in kind

MSHIRI: ..but only if you can control yourself and commit to what really needs doing in the long term

MSHIRI: ...instead of rushing off to your death like a fool

NECRON: † Is that what you think she was? A fool? †

MSHIRI: . ...

MSHIRI: ..are you sure you want me to answer that question

Something in Necron's expression breaks. A humorless smile cracks up his face, he wipes one cheek with the palm of his hand. It's a laugh that comes out of him, impotent and miserable.

NECRON: † I s'pose not. †

NECRON: †† Well, what're we waitin' for? Let's go share the bad news. ††

He leads the way to his truck, too eager to stay a pace ahead of you and Oricka.

ORICKA: uh, i think ill wait in the truck when we get to hq

ORICKA: the LAST thing we need right now is me flying off the handle at some spoiled little corpo failtrolls :expressionless:

MSHIRI: .wise choice

MSHIRI: ..you should do the same necron

NECRON: †† Not a chance. I ain't leavin' ya out to dry all on your lonesome like that, no siree. ††

You share a look of skeptical consternation with Oricka, who shrugs in response.

The keys slip twice from Necron's hand before he gets the door open. While he gives Oricka a lift into the passenger side, you slide into place behind the wheel.

MSHIRI: .ill drive

NECRON: †† Like hell you will. ††

MSHIRI: .necron

MSHIRI: ..your hands are shaking

He clenches his fingers into fists, purses his lips in a defiant scowl.

NECRON: †† I've got this, Miss Shiri. You can count on me. ††

You sigh as he climbs up into the front seat and forces you to scooch to the middle.

The engine roars alive and groans against a rough tug of the gearshift.

You idle in place for a few seconds.

Necron's grip on the steering wheel is so tight, his knuckles are blue.

You rest a hand on his shoulder, and before he thinks you can see him crumble into a sobbing mess, he opens the driver side door and jumps out into the night, slamming it behind him.

You slide into his place, adjusting what little you can, and try to pretend you can't hear Necron hiccuping as he makes his way around the back.

You drive.

To Necron's palpable annoyance, you strictly obey the speed limit, stop at every light, and dutifully signal your every move to the masses of trolls you're sure are already beginning to forget tonight's incident.

It's not long before the monorail station disappears in the rearview. Up ahead, looming so large it seems like it should only be a few minutes away, stands Corporate HQ.

You realize quite suddenly how long it's been since your last meal, and resign yourself to waiting even longer still.

Necron idly prods at the internals of his metal hand, checking for damage. He loses interest and finds himself staring out the window at passing street lights, forehead on the glass.

Next to you, Oricka pulls out her phone and sighs.

ORICKA: i should call crytum and tell him...

ORICKA: whatever there is to tell him :tired_troll_face:

She puts the thing to her ear and waits, ringing barely audible over the hum of the engine.

ORICKA: hey

ORICKA: yeah im... ok. ronnys ok too, im riding with him and mshiri right now

ORICKA: sorry for not getting back to you sooner, its been a hectic couple hours

ORICKA: so...

ORICKA: about the mission...

Act 2.

HAMIFI: Yes.∞

HAMIFI: Yes, I understand.∞

HAMIFI: I am perfectly cognizant of the consequences this will have to Corporate's public image, thank you.∞

You are now the Corporate Heir.

You watch Hamifi stand solemn with the phone to her head, voice as flat and professional now as it would be any other night.

It's astonishing, really. Her ability to take official calls for hours on end without crumbling into a ball of hyperventilating panic seems like a genuine superpower, now more than ever.

HAMIFI: Vendor adspend is irrelevant, I'm certain it will level back out as soon as we've identified the weakness in our broadcast fortressing.∞

Despite her composure, Hamifi's voice sounds smaller to you than normal.

Perhaps it's the acoustics of Secily's office? It lacks the cavernous quality of most Corporate spaces you've spent your life in.

You forget to humor any other explanations.

The two of you decided it would be best to wait out the situation here. When Secily returns, there are bound to be a lot of questions. Almost absentmindedly, you run through them again one more time.

HAMIFI: Casualties are unconfirmed as of yet. We suspect the perpetrator may have cut the broadcast early to sow panic among worker-consumers.∞

On the wall in front of you hangs what is, arguably, a family portrait. But your eyes are focused on a nearer point in the air, where a glowing teal orb begins to take shape from nothing.

HAMIFI: Because no one's reported any bombs going off, that's why.∞

At the behest of your concentration, the transparent orb collapses inward, gains angles and rigid lines, folds onto and through itself in a process of refinement that ends with the creation of a small, illusory door.

HAMIFI: Because no one's reported any bombs going off, that's why.∞

With a careful gesture of your hand, the door snaps into place in the entryway of a miniature two-story villa, totally blocking the picture frame from view.

HAMIFI: No, not yet.∞

You let out a tinkerer's sigh of relief, and take a step back to evaluate your work.

HAMIFI: I said no.∞

The door looks good, you think, but the slant of the roof is all wrong.

If the rest hadn't been so fiddly (and if Hamifi weren't in the room to be startled by the explosion), you'd be tempted to blow it up and start over from scratch.

HAMIFI: It is the joint position of Corporate leadership that no further public statements will be made until we have a complete picture of what precisely has occurred.∞

Arms crossed behind your back, you turn in a slow circle.

A teal cobblestone road winds its way from the teal gates of the villa through a field, past a teal farm compound dotted with teal windmills, and into a series of vast teal city complexes that ring Secily's office end to end.

HAMIFI: Every data-carrying screen in the Stronghold, yes, I'm looking at the same reports as you.∞

It's a model Stronghold — what passed for one in a distant age before the Renaissance, anyway — manifested by the application of your alchemic abilities. Building imaginary cities like this has become a favored activity during times of stress.

Usually, you prefer to utilize more tangible building blocks than this, if only because it's more of a challenge. At least this method makes it easier to iron out little imperfections; the details only you tend to notice or care about.

HAMIFI: Of course public opinion is down, they've just been lied to by a terrorist.∞

You've never seen a place like it in real life, so you have no idea how to judge its realism. All you've got to go on are the disparate, often conflicting accounts of various historians, and your own subjective architectural proclivities.

Corporate either holds or closely monitors nearly all that remains from these age old civilizations, but there is still so much that is missing or–

HAMIFI: That information is classified.∞

Yes. What she said.

It's impossibly idyllic, this hallucinatory landscape. No plastic trees, no geomorphic climate control, no artificial intelligence systems for automation, no particalizers or synthetic bolstering of any kind.

The closest analogue to Corporate's towering, austere HQ is an immense cathedral, all rounded stone and pendentives, marble columns and gleaming minarets.

HAMIFI: I said it's classified.∞

Inspecting the cathedral more closely, you find yourself thinking that at least the all-mother gave her subjects something pretty to look at.

All this commotion over lime blood made you curious about it, you suppose. The Vivifier must have had her work cut out for her.

And knowing the few objective truths about her that you do, you figure that if she heard about the situation you're all in, she might laugh.

HAMIFI: The public broadcast of illegally acquired privileged information from a highly sensitive in-progress case does not, under any circumstances, constitute a de facto declassification of said case.∞

Your gaze is suddenly caught by a blank patch of wall beneath a tall spire, so you manifest another orb and begin whittling it down into something to fill in the space.

HAMIFI: Do not make me repeat myself again.∞

You've lost track of how long you've been at this, exactly, or why you even started in the first place.

It's almost hypnotic, listening to one side of a conversation. And you suppose it's better to build for no reason than to build nothing in the absence of one.

HAMIFI: Yes, that will be fine.∞

Maybe there's a lesson in there somewhere.

HAMIFI: I am not interested in apologies, just see that it gets done.∞

She hangs up with a barely perceptible sigh, her collected demeanor betrayed only by the sweat beading on her brow.

Hamifi approaches you slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose with one hand.

HAMIFI: This operation has gone about as poorly as it possibly could have. We might live another fifty sweeps and still not be done cleaning up this mess.∞

You have no response to that, and she doesn't expect one. To humor the notion at greater length would be to suggest that the terrorist Aumtzi Maught actually succeeded with this stunt.

Of course he didn't.

It's a fantasy of consequence that will never come true. The Corporation absorbs worse atrocities and embarrassments as a matter of course almost every single day, and its subjects have nowhere else to turn besides.

This event won't change the world, and you both know it. A wice from now, it won't even be in the news anymore. A video essay or two, perhaps, but by then it'll only be relegated to conspiracy.

Only in this momentary reflective silence does Hamifi notice the extensive complex of translucent buildings you've assembled around the edges of Secily's office.

She seems taken aback, perhaps surprised most of all by her own inattentiveness.

HAMIFI: Someone's been keeping himself occupied.∞

SESTRO: ∞there's no one left for me to call. it was between this or today's axial-linguistic inference table, and i suck at those.

HAMIFI: Yes, you do.∞

HAMIFI: What did they have to say?∞

You shrug, attention fixed on capturing the precise dimensions of a stained glass window small enough to fit in the etched palm of your hand. SESTRO: ∞rodere relayed in her characteristic fashion that clarud is presently indisposed and doesn't wish to speak on the matter.

SESTRO: ∞the principal was in the process of assembling the alchemical taskforce, but all the leads have gone cold now that suspects in the snowbound blood case are public knowledge.

SESTRO: ∞as for ms. iopara's ad hoc militia...

A frown sours your face. You've overworked the window, lost its meaning in your quest for verisimilitude. It fits well below the spire, but you remain unsatisfied at the details.

SESTRO: ∞no response.

HAMIFI: I see.∞

HAMIFI: That is... suboptimal.∞

Without meaning to, you bark out a laugh. Hamifi's talent for understatement never fails to amuse.

SESTRO: ∞it's a good thing she submitted her resignation already, isn't it?

SESTRO: ∞saves us the trouble of an official reprimand when she gets back.

HAMIFI: Yes, I suppose it does.∞

HAMIFI: When.∞

She rolls the word around on her tongue and doesn't seem to like the taste.

You notice then that Hamifi is tapping her fingers against the palm of her hand in a choreographed dance whose steps you immediately recognize.

You take that hand into yours and try to sound easygoing.

SESTRO: ∞would you care for a tour?

HAMIFI: I ought to check back with security in case there are any updates.∞

SESTRO: ∞if there were any updates, they would already be calling you.

HAMIFI: ...∞

HAMIFI: Very well, Mr. Enthal. Show me.∞

A smile breaks out across your face despite yourself.

SESTRO: ∞basically, it's a rough interpretation of a bizkantine era stronghold, based on descriptions from a recent study out of the historical division.

SESTRO: ∞i rummaged around what the masshole had to offer in terms of concrete data but i had to fudge a lot of details. SESTRO: ∞i think it's a pretty respectable likeness anyway.

SESTRO: ∞except for the stained glass. they didn't have the technology for that back then, i just think it looks neat.

She smirks at your "neat." You draw her attention to a somewhat more diminutive building in the cathedral's shadow.

SSESTRO: ∞this facility right here is a place for community social gatherings and knowledge distribution.

SESTRO: ∞sort of like a primitive holonet cafe, but just for books!

HAMIFI: And we wonder why their civilization collapsed.∞

For anyone else, Hamifi's sarcasm would be the conversational equivalent of taking a knife right in the bloodpusher.

For you, it's a tone of endearment. Like a game of tag, or a low stakes practice duel. It's the closest thing to "play" you ever get from her, and it's such a relief in this moment you can almost forget where you are, or why you're there.

Encouraged, you ramble on through every trivial tidbit that crosses your mind, eagerly pointing from structure to structure.

It's not often you get to infodump so freely, and even rarer to have Hamifi's undivided attention all the while.

At least, you think you have her undivided attention. She's smiling a little bit every time you glance up at her to check if she's bored, which is as good a sign as any.

Finally exhausted of facts to share, you straighten your back with pride and lock eyes with Hamifi.

SESTRO: ∞you're impressed, i'm sure.

HAMIFI: It is impressive work.∞

SESTRO: ∞it's just wriggler stuff, really. looks like more than it actually is to the untrained eye.

SESTRO: ∞lucky for you, i enjoy compliments.

HAMIFI: You don't give yourself enough credit, Sestro. You're getting better every—∞

A sudden ring from the table phone.

Without pause, Hamifi's smile is a distant memory as she lunges towards it. She snaps it up and answers.

HAMIFI: Speak.∞

You watch the tension return to her body. You feel it, too. She shoulders the receiver and addresses you.

HAMIFI: It's the front office. Emergency line.∞

A dreadfully certain uncertainty.

SESTRO: ∞put it on speaker.

A taboo broken in plain sight.

HAMIFI: Of course.∞

She presses the flashing yellow button with a satisfyingly chonky clunk.

MANILA: We have a situati[]n d[]wnstairs!

HAMIFI: Explain.∞

MANILA: Ooh, fiddlesticks! it's m[]re []f an elevator situati[]n n[]w!!

HAMIFI: Out with it, Mx. Folder.∞

MANILA: A pair []f harried s[]-and-s[]'s just st[]rmed past security! They have credentials and analytics sh[]w they've entered the building bef[]re.

MANILA: TEMP Libeta was []ne []f them i think?? she was saying they have urgent news, but...

MANILA: Well ma'am the []ther was a bulky fell[]w with a bloodstained r[]b[]t arm in t[]w, l[][]king rather surly and danger[]us!

MANILA: Sh[]uld we be scattering the dr[]nes?

Before she can answer, the office door swings violently open. You practically jump out of your skin, and your illusory Bizkantine city around you flickers in waves of dissipating energy in response.

You immediately recognize them: Mshiri Libeta and Necron Exmort, both looking very much the worse for wear.

No civilians should have clearance to the top floors of the building. Given their ties to the case and Secily's favoritism, you have no doubt they've been given special treatment.

You, however, are far more preocuppied with the hallway behind them. Waiting. Hoping for someone else to follow in their wake.

After a momentary staredown, Hamifi speaks with authoritative certainty.

HAMIFI: Drones will not be necessary.∞

She hangs up as the intruders barge in. You can see their eyes are puffy and irritated. Necron can't look up from the floor for more than a second at a time.

Mshiri closes the door. Your city reforms itself around her ankles.

No one else is coming in.

Something black licks at the edge of your thoughts. Corrosive, hungry. A mild panic spins up in your lungs, but it's nothing.

It's nothing.

And then, with practiced exactitude, you close yourself off to your own thoughts. Parcel them away behind a door in your inner sanctum.

The Enthal line is just as good at putting things out of mind as it is the opposite.

HAMIFI: Mr. Exmort, it's a relief to see you in one piece after all.∞

NECRON: †† Relief. Yeah. Sure thing. ††

SESTRO: ∞i've been trying to contact the lot of you all night!

SESTRO: ∞why didn't anyone answer?

SESTRO: ∞we're aware of the circumstances, but the least you could have provided was a status update.

SESTRO: ∞where's–

HAMIFI: Nevermind that, you're here now. Debrief us on the mission.∞

HAMIFI: I assume that's why you're here.∞

MSHIRI: .yes of course

MSHIRI: ..the mission

You are again Mshiri Libeta, suddenly confronted with a task you thought you were prepared for. But now that you're here—

MSHIRI: .the mission was...

You look Hamifi in the eyes, and the words catch in your throat.

She carries herself with such maturity that it hides her youth, but you see it now.

She is so young, you think. And then it hits you that the news you're here to deliver is not about this young woman's employee, but her guardian. Her caretaker. Her mentor.

And she was never just your moirail, was she?

You look into the eyes of this girl who loved and idolized Secily, who aspired to her example at every turn, and you realize that she already knows what you're about to tell her.

Suddenly, you're overcome by the sensation that you are looking into a mirror.

You are the woman, wishing you didn't have to say it.

You are the girl, wishing you didn't have to hear it.

You are both, in this moment, wishing desperately for one final diversion of reality, because it is simply too much to bear.

She left you. Time and again you tried to stop her, slow her down, change her mind, but she never listened.

She was too stubborn to listen.

What did you never say to her, now that she's gone? How many regrets will bubble up in your future, dragging you down with age just as Secily's grief dragged her down?

In a very real sense, she chose her own death over you.

And you always knew she would.

The truth is, you've been practicing for this moment.

Rehearsing it, step by step, a simulation of loss and grief, just to see what it might feel like. In your line of work, you have to be prepared for anything, the unspeakable most of all.

Now the moment is here, at last inarguable and concrete. Secily Iopara is dead, and the rest of your life is her blast radius.

It doesn't feel at all like you thought it would, because it doesn't feel like anything.

A cold churn in your gut, a rabid lusus' terror locked tight in a box and buried under miles of practiced, impenetrable composure.

Why are you so surprised if you knew this day was coming?

It feels like being right in the worst way. It feels like gravity has abandoned your soul and you are slipping down into the static.

Shouldn't you be crying? This isn't someone you didn't know or only communicated with once, after all.

Why aren't you crying? You shared a life with her.

Are you a monster?

After everything she did for you, with all that she meant to you, you can't even muster up a few tears?

But this is what she prepared you for. This is what she gave back: the ability to take hits in stride.

Secily would be ashamed if you wasted tears on her account. Right?

In the end, she got everything she wanted. And here you are, holding the bag, waiting for someone to tell you what to do.

There's a hand on your shoulder, and suddenly the mirror breaks. You turn to see Necron looking down at you with a measure of fragile resolve.

NECRON: †† I'll take this, Miss Shiri. ††

Always willing to be the hero, Necron steps up. Even when he doesn't need to.

NECRON: †† It was a setup. Classic honkbeast chase. The perp led us by the sniffholes through just about every slum outta the 'hold. ††

NECRON: †† 'Course we knew what we were gettin' into, but... ††

NECRON: †† Well anyhow, the sonuvagun tricked me with a spoofed emergency call. Pretended to be my gal, used her voice, made it sound like she was in real trouble. ††

NECRON: †† I ran off to find her, got jumped. Next thing I knew I was hogtied in a monorail car with a sock in my mouth and a bomb strapped to my chest on live TV. ††

NECRON: †† I tried to tell Secily to leave me there, and for a second I thought she might actually do it, but... ††

NECRON: †† S'pose that just ain't her way. ††

NECRON: †† Didn't have time to untie me though, so she, y'know... ††

Shaky hands start rattling his mechanics. You find yourself reciting an ancient prayer you learned a long time ago, forgotten until this moment.

NECRON: †† And then she... ††

All-Mother please, let our roots hold firm in the gale.

NECRON: †† She might'a caught him if she let that bomb go off. That'd be better'n this, right? ††

All-Mother please, let us grow twice where the axe has cut.

NECRON: †† She shouldn't have saved me. ††

All-Mother please, let our seeds spread from the wildfire ashes.

NECRON: †† But the worst bit is that I'm glad she did it. Ain't that a trip? ††

All-Mother please, let us grieve but half what our aggrievers shall suffer.

NECRON: †† She failed the fuckin' mission for me, and I've got the nerve to be glad? ††

SESTRO: ∞wait.

SESTRO: ∞what do you mean she failed?

You look at him. Necron looks at him. Hamifi looks at him. He meets each of their gazes in turn. Confused, annoyed.

SESTRO: ∞why are you all staring at me like that?

Necron stammers aimlessly. Hamifi turns away, covering her mouth with one delicate hand. You take a few gentle strides towards Sestro, arm outstretched.

MSHIRI: .you should sit down mister enthal

SESTRO: ∞i don't think i will. not until you explain what's going on.

MSHIRI: .please, i dont want you to hurt yourself

SESTRO: ∞hurt myself? why would i—

SESTRO: ∞hamifi, what is this? why are you...

SESTRO: ∞what is everyone crying about?

MSHIRI: .we recieved a transmission shortly after her disappearance

MSHIRI: ..im sorry

MSHIRI: ...im so, so sorry

SESTRO: ∞what are you apologizing for?!

SESTRO: ∞i don't understand what's going on!

There's a loud crunch, like someone stepping on a bag of chips. You turn to see Necron grimacing, a glowing teal shack squished between his fingers.

Behind it hangs a framed portrait of Secily standing proud next to Sestro and Hamifi, both looking so much younger and more innocent than they do today.

NECRON: †† Ah, hell... ††

Sestro throws his arms up and fusses at the damage as Necron unclenches his hand, brushing debris off like astral jetsam.

SESTRO: ∞excuse me!!!

Necron backs away and tries to look apologetic, but it's too late. Underneath his facade of terse composure is the air of a man about to give an inadvisably large piece of his mind to all parties present.

NECRON: †† Yeah, you're excused. Sittin' up here spoilt rotten in your tower, building toy cities, lookin' down on all us nobodies your whole life, makin' choices on our behalf. ††

NECRON: †† All you are is excuses. ††

HAMIFI: Careful, Mr. Exmort.∞

Hamifi hisses, standing poised and at the ready. Necron sizes her up and can't help but scoff.

NECRON: †† Don't you fuckin' bow up towards me. ††

NECRON: †† I ain't afraid of you, kid. Can you say the same? ††

NECRON: ††† You're the ones who put her on this damn case. This is your cupe we're writhin' in, you duplicitous little... †††

MSHIRI: .necron

MSHIRI: ..its not their fault

MSHIRI: ...you need to calm down

NECRON: ††† Just look at that picture there. Two grinnin' wigglers under Secily's wing. It's perverse, ain't it? †††

NECRON: ††† She raised you. She taught you everythin' you know, and you sent her out into the meat grinder anyway. †††

NECRON: ††† May as well've pulled the trigger yourselves. †††

HAMIFI: We tried to stop her!∞

NECRON: ††† Yeah, and I bet you were real convincing too. †††

SESTRO: ∞don't talk to hamifi like that!!!

SESTRO: ∞please, just— where is she?

SESTRO: ∞where is secily?!

All the air goes out of the room. Necron's mouth hangs open just so, shocked that the message hasn't gotten through already. You know this will only get worse, but you're powerless to do anything but watch.

NECRON: ††† You really need me to spell it out for you, son? †††

NECRON: ††† She's dead. †††

SESTRO: ∞de...

SESTRO: ∞dead?

NECRON: †††† D E A D, caput, donezo, shipped off to the farm upstate, six feet fuckin' under, worm food supreme, you dig? ††††

NECRON: ††† It's that inconvenient thing that keeps happening to all your employees. †††

MSHIRI: .thank you for your input necron but i think you should go back to the truck

NECRON: ††† Why, so you can apologize on my behalf, tell 'em I'm not in my right mind or somesuch? †††

NECRON: ††† You're right. I must've been on somethin' real nasty to think I could buddy up with a regulator and not get my pusher ripped still-beatin' outta my chest! †††

MSHIRI: go back to the truck right now or can it!

You barely raise your voice, but it's enough to shock everyone in the room. Necron most of all. He stumbles back a step, barely standing, a house of cards swaying in a wind tunnel.

MSHIRI: .im so sorry

MSHIRI: ..i really was trying to avoid making a scene

HAMIFI: It's fine. Just get him out of here for his own sake.∞

You put an arm over Necron's shoulder, trying to usher him towards the door. One step. Another. You're almost at the door when he stops walking.

A brief, hysterical laugh escapes his throat.

NECRON: It's over, man.

NECRON: It's all over.

He slips out from under you and slouches against the doorframe. He's making this so much harder than it needs to be, you could scream for all the help he's been.

But it's the Heir who demands your attention, looking so lost, so uncertain. His voice is barely more than a whisper.

SESTRO: ∞how do you know that she's...?

MSHIRI: .the transmission i mentioned

MSHIRI: ..it came from secilys communicator

MSHIRI: ...they told us... checkmate

MSHIRI: ....and then they hung up

HAMIFI: Gods...∞

SESTRO: ∞but that could mean anything!

MSHIRI: .im sorry mr enthal—

MSHIRI: ..sestro

MSHIRI: ...but it only means one thing

In sight.

In mind.

Again, you are Sestro Enthal, spotlit and terrified, blind to what lurks ever closer in the dark beyond the stage.

SESTRO: ∞but...

SESTRO: ∞that can't be right. she promised me she'd come back.

Mshiri says something you don't process. You're staring at Hamifi, begging her to take your side, but she can't even look at you.

She's crying around shapeless words.

There are ten thousand needles in your lungs.

SESTRO: ∞she promised. she promised.

SESTRO: ∞she... there's no way she'd make a promise she knew she couldn't keep. right?

The beginnings of an earthquake rattle the walls of your Bizkantine dreamworld. A bust of Saint Borland the Second begins weeping sickly green tears, his antiquated microphone dripping like melted plastic.

HAMIFI: Do we know where she's...∞

HAMIFI: If there are any... remains?∞

SESTRO: ∞no, please don't—

You're going to be sick.

SESTRO: ∞don't say that...

The lights in here are too harsh.

MSHIRI: .im not sure

Their lips move, but you can't hear what they're saying beyond the ringing in your ears.

MSHIRI: ..but i wouldnt hold out hope

Nothing is real.

HAMIFI: Did she leave anything behind? Was there a note for us, or...∞

She's gone.

HAMIFI: Or parting words?∞

She's gone and she knew she was going.

SESTRO: ∞she didn't! she couldn't have!

Of course she knew, you child.

MSHIRI: .none that im aware of

Promises are for wrigglers.

MSHIRI: ..i believe secily thought she was coming back

Promises are for dying women.

SESTRO: ∞she would never abandon us. i refuse to believe it.

Who is that tapping at your window?

HAMIFI: Hey. She didn't abandon us. She was taken. Do you hear me?∞

What devil sets fire to a cathedral?

SESTRO: ∞taken somewhere... that's where i should be...

You're not real. Nothing is real. The city is on fire and it's taking the future with it.

HAMIFI: Stay here, Sestro. Focus on who you are.∞

You want to throw up. It's getting too hot to breathe.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, Necron returned. You don't know why. You don't care.

MSHIRI: .necron you need to leave

You want everyone who has ever drawn breath to cease.

Your body rises, volatile electric synapses jolting around you.

NECRON: †† Aye caramba, is that kid about to explode?! ††

You want to drop a bomb on history.

It grows in strength and intensity. Alchemy piercing through the hearts of everyone in the office.

Your subconscious thoughts are all that keep these trolls standing. The furnishings, reports, files, memories... none of them are as lucky.

MSHIRI: .get back to the truck NOW

You want to obliterate language and time and love until all existence is just a hole for you to die in.

You were never made for it. You are only a legacy, and now you're forced to carry her too.

SESTRO: ∞is this how she felt after ahlina died?

Inky black smoke rises from shattered windows.

They do not repair themselves immediately as they should. She neglected to bring them up to code.

SESTRO: ∞i get it now. i would hate me too.

Precise angles bow into sickly curves, dripping with translucent fire.

Drones were called. The building is under siege. Sirens blare. All of them are destroyed the moment they enter the office.

In the midst of it all, familiar hands find yours.

HAMIFI: Secily didn't hate you. She doted on you night and day! It almost made me jealous, how soft she was with you!∞

Doors become mouths, howling, screaming.

HAMIFI: She loved you!∞

HAMIFI: I love you!∞

HAMIFI: Come back to me!∞

You're lost. Everything is lost.

SESTRO: ∞i'm lost. everything is lost. i am...

You are responsible.

SESTRO: ∞i am responsible...

SESTRO: ∞for the worst thing that ever happened to her...

SESTRO: ∞and then i sent her off to die.

SESTRO: ∞oh.

SESTRO: ∞oh.

Everything around you loses coherence. The only sense left is of regret.

You want to tell her what you've learned but you can't.

You want to show her what you've built but you can't.

You will never hear her voice again.

You will never be frustrated by her again.

You will never get to laugh with her again.

You will never be able to ask her for advice again.

You will never get to share your future with her.

Your future, a depth blacker than any polluted ocean.

Are you thinking or speaking or dreaming?

Or are you just dead?

Maybe everyone is always already dead, they just haven't got the message yet.

You want her to tuck you in again.

You want to tell her you're sorry.

And it's all...

MSHIRI: .its not your fault

Arms around your shoulders. Cold heat seeps into your skin, and it's like falling into water.

MSHIRI: ..its not hamifis fault

Her voice is the center of the universe, suddenly the only thing that makes sense.

MSHIRI: ...its not necrons or orickas or mine

You remember your aching body, flit open your eyes to see blackened walls, still-flaming against the sprinklers. Did you do that?

MSHIRI: ....she chose to walk into the mouth of the monster alone

You feel exhausted in every limb, conscious mind a tattered cloth only barely patched together around this force of calm in Mshiri's voice.

MSHIRI: .....and it was our bad luck that the monster chose to bite down

Your eyes drift closed again. A sleep of indistinct dreaming swallows you whole.

Unlike your typical comas, this time you do not give yourself the luxury of study. You are drowned in your sorrow and grief, and you are powerless to push through it.

You will awaken again around two wices later, no less worse for wear and no more consoled, your only comfort the fact that Hamifi stayed by your side the entire time.

And much like she does, you throw yourself back into your work to stave off the ache. It does not work, for either of you. Not entirely. But you do try.

Later, you and Hamifi will be picking up right where Secily Iopara left off, though you do not know it yet. Everyone involved with Operation Snowbound Blood will.

All of you are connected to an incursion of grand design. An end in perfect cataclysm, spurned by the very perpetrators of this case, far closer to you in history than you could have realized.

But that is long from now, and no less of a weight on your soul.

Someone you loved has died.

The memory of it will haunt you forever.

Act 3.

The sparse moments of light in the dark season are always the brightest.

In the early hours, both suns not yet perched on their summit, heat sits pleasantly around your shoulders — unlike the harsh rays of midday, more a warm shroud. Comfortable.

You sit sprawled on a wooden bench on the patio, limbs loose and lazy, making full use of the several colorful cushions that line your resting place in the shade.

Your eyes close as you lean your neck against the backrest. With one of your senses put on hold, this is what you feel:

The cushions are soft. Luxurious, even, as the gentle-sweet aroma of the garden — tended to with such careful, loving hands — envelops you.

Lilac and honey.

You incline your head towards the source of cheerful, meandering humming, couched by the low droning of the worker bees. Your mouth slowly shifts into a smile.

She doesn't even realize she's doing it half the time.

You breathe in deep, let the air out in a soft sigh. Yes, luxurious is best for these late-day moments, sequestered between the ever diminishing gaps of your busy schedule.

Always busy, these days. Such is the lot of those in your position.

It bothers her, how often you're in contact with violence. You've had a few circular arguments in the past, about the high-priority cases the corporation is ever more willing to assign you to.

She's worried it'll desensitize you. Whatever that means.

If you stopped to hem and haw and be sensitive every time a split-second decision had to be made on the field, well... You would not be coming back to her at the end of the night before long.

You save lives, keep corruption from seeping into the veins of society. For that, the risk is worth it.

This is a truth you've held close ever since you first stepped inside the Corporate building, Proserpina at your side. And you know it still, case after case after case.

Your mind wanders to your newest assignment. A Priority Aleph, which is a once-in-a-binary-eclipse level of a problem. Which is good. Petty crime gets...

Your thought process skips a beat. Priority Aleph cases are not handed out to freshly promoted mid-level officers.

What were you doing earlier tonight? You were called to—

You were...

Your body jolts into action, some blind instinct screaming at you to hold yourself together. You sit up, bloodpusher hammering inside your chest cavity, patting along your stomach, looking for—

Nothing. There's nothing there, you think to yourself, dumbfounded, as you stare at both your hands clinging to the front of your shirt. One, two. Left and right. There you are. Whole and healthy, in your civilian clothes.

Why did you—

??????: Secily?

??????: You're not falling asleep on the job, are you, Miss Iopara?

The world falls back into place. Every listless anxiety dissolved into a puddle, powerless in the face of the sunniest apiculturist you've ever had the grace to know.

SECILY: I'd never dream of it, Ahlina.

Her teasing smile takes a more sympathetic bent as she takes your face in.

AHLINA: Ah, I know it's early. They do say that good company goes a long way, though.

Your matesprit plucks the bonnet from her head and she is right, nevermind who this "they" is. No more shadows to hide the beauty of her face.

SECILY: Mmm. And I find myself sitting with the best kind, as a matter of fact.

It feels like a dream. A pang in the back of your throat surprises you — you're not prone to sudden bouts of emotion, especially not over mundane, everyday exchanges.

What has gotten into you?

You push every other stray thought and half-remembered impression from your mind and let yourself sink into this feeling, the simple joy of seeing someone who has been with you every night since grubhood.

You are tethered in mind, body and soul. Too far from each other even when you're less than two feet away.

SECILY: Just... lost in thought again, is all.

AHLINA: That's such a bad habit! Keep it up and you may not find your way out of that thinkpan.

Ha ha, you say, and she doesn't ask to join you. She just sits then falls against your side. Her cheek squished up against your shoulder, a hand lounging lazily on your midsection.

AHLINA: I would hate to lose my favorite assistant to the machinations of her own mind. Especially when I need my gloves to scrape the suckle and you're too deep in it to bring them to me!

SECILY: That happened once.

AHLINA: Mhm.

SECILY: The morning brings out my contemplative side.

AHLINA: Of course. Many things to consider. The noble oath you're sworn to and such.

You let the soft jab slide and the two of you hold this moment together.

Sometimes her grip tightens, sometimes yours does. The suns don't move an inch, even after the second hand of Ahlina's novelty clock has made countless rotations inside your hive. Tic-toc, tic-toc.

After the pleasant ambience of a small flock of avian lusii passes by, you find a dull enough question to ease your silence back into domestic bliss.

SECILY: They've been working hard this sweep, haven't they?

AHLINA: Mhm. Though the dark season isn't particularly kind to them.

AHLINA: Bees thrive during hot weather, after their dormancy from the cold. They need the suns and flowers and to be able to fly around and build again.

AHLINA: Not that they don't do anything during the harsher climate. Survival takes skill!

AHLINA: I guess they're restless even when they're resting.

SECILY: The perfect workers. I wonder where they get the admirable drive.

SECILY: One would think they'd eventually tire of serving a single purpose, night in and night out, even with an off-season.

She shrugs against you.

AHLINA: Well, they're wild lusii. Without a charge bonded to them, serving their monarch is reason enough.

AHLINA: I can at least help them do their best. Make it as comfortable as possible through the bad seasons.

AHLINA: Also, the honey is delicious.

She lifts herself up and out of the bench with a decisive push. You glance up at her, already missing her warmth.

AHLINA: Speaking of, I know just the thing to make for such a lovely morning out.

AHLINA: Be right back!

She disappears inside, your eyes trailing after her. The muffled sounds of dinnerware reach you, the tic-toc of the clock, the soft buzzing of your tiny backyard companions.

You imagine them all clustered together again, safe in the dark of their miniature hive...

It's only when you jolt with the press of something cold against your cheek that you realize you'd nearly nodded off.

SECILY: Ahlina!

She just laughs at you, holding an — admittedly — very inviting cocktail in an old fashioned glass inches away from your face, condensation already gathering on her fingers.

AHLINA: Peace offering?

You take it from her, but do make it a point to scowl.

AHLINA: Don't be a grump. I made your favorite, see?

It is your favorite. Bourbon mixed with fruits and a dash of Ahlina's hivegrown honey syrup, golden and spiced, and there's the strange pang in the back of your throat again.

You feel the cold of the glass seep into your fingers as you turn towards her.

SECILY: Thank you.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

She lowers herself back on the bench and onto your side, and raises her own glass in invitation.

AHLINA: To the wild lusii of the world and their admirable work ethic.

SSECILY: And to their wise keepers.

The clink rings clear through the yard, a pleasant note to end a hard morning's work on.

You bring the glass to your lips, anticipating the tried and true results of your matesprit's expert talents in mixology, and the drink coats your tongue.

Huh.

This... doesn't taste like you remember at all.

You can taste honey. You can taste bourbon. Even the fruits and the spices.

It's just... not meshing right. Like someone got a list of all the individual elements and tried to imagine what they would be like together, without the actual interplay of flavors you're so familiar with.

SECILY: Wh

AHLINA...?: Oh, did you figure it out?

AHLINA...?: Apologies. I've never been very good at tastes.

Hair standing on end, you realize that you have no idea who is sitting beside you.

Like some unseen director has just called cut! from behind a camera, you watch as this person — this thing wearing your lover's skin like a coat — simply stops pretending.

Everything that makes Ahlina herself leaves it in an instant. A cruel, perfect mockery of her.

It takes concentration for your glass not to break under your hold.

SECILY: 1.e4 Who are you. ...e5

It's your training that allows you to keep the steel in your voice, despite the terrified hammering of your chroma beater.

SECILY: 2.f4 Tell me what you've done with her. Now. ...exf4

AHLINA...?: Ah, you really are stubborn...

AHLINA...?: I think you already know. Don't you?

You open your mouth to protest, to demand that it cut the bullshit, that you've had plenty of grandstanding criminal freaks try to rope you into a speech before. But the words die unsaid on your lips.

You think about your newest assignment. Operation Snowbound Blood.

Blood bubbles up your throat, thick and too much of it, burning your lungs as you try to pull in air. You want to claw at it, but your arm's gone, more blood gushing out around the cleaved joint.

Your abdomen is torn open; a slippery mess of guts pours out of the wound.

Blood seeps deeper and deeper within yourself, and then out onto the ground with your entrails.

You can't breathe, you can't fight this—

The horror that wears Ahlina's skin clicks her tongue.

AHLINA...?: Oh, my. This will not do.

The blood and viscera disappear. Your arm is back. Your lungs convulse as you choke on a gulp of air. You're sitting on the bench, whole again.

AHLINA...?: There you go. Much better.

AHLINA...?: Don't worry. That's the way of traumatic final moments. The imagined body tends to remember once the mind does.

AHLINA...?: As I was saying, I'm unable to properly replicate anything that I haven't personally experienced.

It's talking as though what just happened has no effect on it, your body nothing more than a milquetoast display that will soon fade into the rest of the scene. A single frame out of focus.

Does it even see you?

AHLINA...?: It's strange, isn't it? How every single cell and electric blip feeds into what, to the one experiencing them, are facets of a cohesive selfhood.

AHLINA...?: Flesh, blood, taste... all so fickle in design. So prone to error. Yet none that live can be without it.

Every word passes through you. Vibrations, pure noise that makes your head feel hollow. They ring but form no image. The noise compounding into itself, until your own thoughts drown it out.

SECILY: 3.Nf3 Why are you doing this to me? ...g5

It doesn't blink. It makes Ahlina's cheeks soften into a kind of pity one might show a stray lusus on the street.

You hate it.

AHLINA...?: Your ending was... unsatisfying, no?

AHLINA...?: This is your last opportunity to rectify that.

SECILY: 4.d4 What does that mean? ...Qe7

It carries on like you didn't say a word.

AHLINA...?: A satisfying personal journey is a moving thing, rising and falling in response to conflict within the external or internal realm.

AHLINA...?: Yours, though... A flat line. Dead long before you were.

AHLINA...?: You learned nothing, Secily Iopara.

AHLINA...?: I am offering you a final chance to do so.

Ahlina's jaw moves to make the sounds, but the shape of them is all wrong. Like a puppet animated by a clever arrangement of strings, or maybe an image formed to approximate what a person might talk like.

How could you have believed its charade, even for a moment?

Terror seizes you, your muscles pulled taut enough to be forced into stillness. It's your body's instinctive response to what's most precious to you, carved out and twisted into a mockery of itself.

The creature tilts its head. Eyes completely devoid of that spark you know so well pin you to the spot.

You peer into a vastness that has no regard for you, and hold your breath.

NOT AHLINA: You look lost, regulator.

NOT AHLINA: Go on. I'm certain there are many questions you wish to address.

NOT AHLINA: We only have so much time to do this.

Questions. Even at the end of the line, you find yourself overcome with them.

>Who are you?

>What did you do to Ahlina?

>What is this place?

>Am I dead?

>Where is Ahlina?

>What happens next?

>What do you want from me?

>Why am I here?

>Was it all for nothing?

>Was I always meant to fail?

>Is this the only possible outcome?

>Was it worth it to try?

>What would Ahlina think of me right now?

>Why did it have to be me?

>What did I ever do to you?

>What do you mean, "I learned nothing?"

>How do I stop this?

>How do I wake up from this nightmare?

>Please, WHERE is Ahlina?

>How can I trust you?

>Who the HELL are you!?

NOT AHLINA: Always overflowing with everything you demand to know.

NOT AHLINA: Here. I will help.

Where am I?

NOT AHLINA: Much better.

It clasps Ahlina's hands together, a pantomime of delight that seems anything but genuine. A part of your mind that can still feel anger bristles at the condescension.

NOT AHLINA: You appreciate directness, so I'll be direct with you.

NOT AHLINA: You're trapped in this place. Just as I am.

You scan your surroundings, as though a clearer answer might be carved into the earth or scratched across the patio, and find — predictably — none.

It's Ahlina's hive, with all its mundane details that you carry like something fragile between your ribs, but... it's not really it, is it?

The bees have stopped their droning. No wind whispers through the grass and leaves. All sound has died down.

Was it ever there to begin with?

NOT AHLINA: You look distressed. I must apologize for deceiving you.

NOT AHLINA: I meant to provide a peaceful transition, but certain things I'm unable to convincingly replicate. Sensations.

It lifts one hand, watches the fingers as they bend and flex.

NOT AHLINA: I've not experienced any myself. Not for a long time.

Cold eyes bore into yours again.

NOT AHLINA: It gets lonely in here. Makes it easy to forget.

Again, the fear prickles your spine. Are you going to be trapped here with this... thing inhabiting your matesprit's body forever?

And where is here?

NOT AHLINA: But you've always enjoyed solving a good mystery. No, you wouldn't have settled for fading away in ignorance.

NOT AHLINA: You would accept this somewhat... turbulent introduction if it brought you closer to the truth. Stubbornness is something of a defining trait of yours, isn't it?

It doesn't stop to wait for your answer, if you even had one to give.

NOT AHLINA: You won't be surprised to learn that most prefer to pass on with a lighter examination of emotional baggage. All this regret, this tortured nostalgia that you carry, staring you in the face...

NOT AHLINA: And most don't enjoy talking to me.

That's the least shocking part of this experience so far.

NOT AHLINA: Ah. But it seems I've gotten distracted from your original question.

NOT AHLINA: This place is a blank slate, one could say. The prison that I'm trapped within, yes, and my one window to the tree of life grown in my absence.

If it wasn't clear before, it is now. You finally have a picture of who lies underneath the veneer of your former love.

You were never told that she was cruel.

KHEPARIA: It's what remains of me. My prison, my respite, my multitudes, my everything.

KHEPARIA: This is the crucible where all souls rest. Where the strong willed conscious and the fleeting unconscious alike find peace.

KHEPARIA: Here, I can weave anything I desire. Match any narrative, every character, their emotional needs, and eventually, their ending.

Dry, acidic bile slips up your throat before you swallow it back down. Cold sweat has beaded on the back of your neck, leaving goosebumps as it rolls into your collar. You are a primal thing, cornered and trembling.

Around you, Ahlina's hive cracks like old paint, chips peeling off to reveal something... else.

Vibrant colors of all shades and hues. A kaleidoscopic burst of unadulterated sensation, the disparate trillions of souls that make them up, all of them around for far longer than your single, tiny blink of a life.

The building blocks of existence, in its aspects both dormant and not, cascading into itself. Unrealized infinities dancing hollow steps only audible to those within, and which only one being can truly fathom.

You can hardly croak out the words you want to say.

SECILY: 5.Bd3 I-Is... ...d5

SECILY: 6.O-O Is this my judgment? ...dxe4

The word is shattered glass between your teeth. It makes your voice crack.

SECILY: 7.Bxe4 Am I here... so you can decide what happens to me next? ...c6

A soft, sad laugh, and the all-mother's puppeteered hand raises up to cup your cheek. You wish to recoil from it, but you're still paralyzed in place. The warm touch that could once unravel you is delicate and utterly wrong.

Pity drips from Ahlina's words, like her honey turned sour.

KHEPARIA: Oh, Secily... No.

KHEPARIA: You're not that special. Almost nobody is.

The hand falls away, and with it, your ability to speak follows the same path as your body.

KHEPARIA: Morality plays no role in our encounter.

KHEPARIA: I'm no arbiter, here to mete out reward or punishment. Nor am I the final act, the Deus-Ex-Machina that validates all the choices you've made.

KHEPARIA: Even at this moment, I'm having conversations just like this one with thousands upon thousands of extinguished souls.

KHEPARIA: Every blade of grass, every dying star, every animal and troll and species in between — they face me in their final moments.

KHEPARIA: Nothing you could have done, better or worse, would have led to a different outcome.

KHEPARIA: These ideas of justice, notoriety and meaning that mortal life harbors are... fleeting. Only relevant as they unfold.

KHEPARIA: You didn't make right choices or wrong choices, you just made choices.

KHEPARIA: Yours.

You can't believe what you're hearing.

Countless days of pondering your position, the weight of your actions and their purpose, the effects it had on the world writ large. All of them crumbled to dust along with your corpse.

You had always hoped there would be a verdict. Someone to tell you that you did right or wrong.

Instead you're met only with pure... indifference.

No sweet words to absolve your turmoil, nor bitter scorn to condemn your purpose. Only a hollow resolution.

KHEPARIA: Here, you're meeting with freedom in its purest form. Creation without limitation.

KHEPARIA: A hand wet with blood is still a hand. Your soul is still your soul, with all its weight upon it. And your story, sordid and painful and violent as it is, is still a story.

KHEPARIA: The essence of which is mine to cherish.

KHEPARIA: As long as I remain in this state, it's my responsibility to retain it, and ensure it is never lost.

KHEPARIA: So the world continues to spin properly upon my return.

She doesn't bother elaborating further. It's not a sentiment you can understand. Still, she does try to soften the visible blow.

KHEPARIA: You're here to be remembered, Secily.

The words hang in the air, poison gas waiting to invade your body on the next inhale.

You hold your breath. Grit your teeth, as though you could resist the truth in Kheparia's words by bracing against them.

And just as your body's incapable of surviving without air, you cannot defy the gravity of this final revelation.

With its pull, something inside you cracks.

It... It truly was all for nothing.

You were for nothing. Nothing but the entertainment of cosmic powers who knew the doomed terminus of your path, and were indifferent to it.

Your losses, your regrets, the pain you inflicted to demarcate yourself, were only ever a smudge against the negative space of a universe that would be no different if you'd never existed.

The consequences of your actions were only as big as the moments they happened within, the protection you gave only a salve, the pride you built nothing but a chip on your shoulder.

SECILY: 8.Re1 I... ...Be6

SECILY: 9.c4 Oh... Oh Gods... ...Na6

You immediately realize the irony in saying that in front of existence's fountainhead.

SECILY: 10.d5 What did I do...? ...O-O-O

You don't know what that's in reference to. Everything, maybe.

A keening fills your ears, the sound a body makes when it can fit no more grief. It takes you a moment to realize it's coming from you.

Finally, you're able to move. But it's not decisive, it's gravity taking its toll, buckling your knees and sending you to the ground.

Your cheeks are wet; tears blur your vision into a nonsensical mess of shape and color. A jagged sob claws its way up your throat.

In the middle of all this, Ahlina's figure stands unmoving, untouched by the torrent of pain pouring out of you.

You laugh despite yourself, even as the tears keep coming. You're not sure why.

You suppose it's all the same, anyway.

KHEPARIA: This must be a lot to accept.

Her voice suggests that it's not, but that she's trying to humor you, like one might a child throwing a tantrum.

You will yourself to stop crying. At length, the tears ebb.

KHEPARIA: I realize you must feel like your entire existence was in vain, but that is not the case.

KHEPARIA: Even without a grander purpose, your actions still had a meaning when you took them.

KHEPARIA: They were witnessed, and they will be preserved.

KHERPARIA: To think otherwise is to tread into the void.

If the zealots and storybooks ring with any modicum of truth, you can only assume she means her split equal's influence is far reaching.

You wonder if meeting him would have panned out any better.

KHEPARIA: My son has relayed your story to the best of his ability. It will be contained within his telling, with all the intricacies and contradictions that he's been able to capture.

KHEPARIA: And, Secily... it is wonderful. It will be remembered fondly.

KHEPARIA: By me, if by nobody else.

You stare into the unknowable depths of her eyes. How many such stories has she witnessed? How many destinies is she preserving from oblivion?

You wipe your face until you've scrubbed all the evidence of your outburst.

For several moments, you are lost as to what there is left to say.

The writing is clear.

There is no use bargaining or asking for anything else. There are no second chances, there isn't a do-over, there is nowhere for you to go except with her.

Any indignance would only be responded to with measured pleasantries and vague allusions to something greater that is not yours to witness.

You've spent so much of your life ready to die, only to find that there is more. Always more. It feels like a cruel joke.

So... what do you want to do?

What is left?

SECILY: 11.Qd4 ... ...Qc5

SECILY: 12.Bd2 Could you... ...Qxd4+

SECILY: 13.Nxd4 Really act like her again? Like you did before? ...cxd5

KHEPARIA: Of course. I know everything about Ahlina, just as I know everything about you.

KHEPARIA: You'd never be able to tell, if that's what would make you feel at peace.

Peace...

You never thought peace an option.

The world went sour and cold after losing her, so you followed suit. Even in the moments where you allowed yourself to pause, you still felt that all-consuming dread licking at your heels.

Perhaps it was an imperfect recall guiding your hand, at times. Ahlina your shield and Proserpina always ready to cut down all who dared take that step too close to you.

Nobody in your life was free from your pain. Everyone, everything after Ahlina... hurt. They hurt because you hurt.

But.

If it's okay for you to do this— if you've been given permission for one last selfishness, then...

SECILY: 14.Bxd5 Yes. I would like that. ...½-½

It would be nice to pretend that you were a version of yourself who never had to hurt at all.

Kheparia nods, a gentle curve to her lips that is, for once, not out of place on Ahlina's face.

KHEPARIA: Close your eyes, Secily.

KHEPARIA: Close your eyes, Secily.

The sparse moments of light in the dark season are always the brightest.

In the early hours, both suns not yet perched on their summit, heat sits pleasantly around your shoulders—unlike the harsh rays of midday, more a warm shroud.

Your cocktail glass is sweating between your fingers. Inside it, the ice has melted to smooth, round pebbles.

AHLINA: Secily? Are you still with me?

AHLINA: You've been quiet for a while.

You look up at her, haloed in the pinks of morning, and hold this moment like a ripe berry between your teeth.

You smile. The berry bursts.

SECILY: Yes. I'm right here.

SECILY: It's a beautiful morning.

Ahlina sits next to you, her thigh a comfortable, familiar press against yours. She's warm. She rests her head on your shoulder.

AHLINA: It is, isn't it?

Act 4.

Welcome back. It's good to see you again.

How did you enjoy this portion of our story? I've been looking forward to its conclusion. At last may we discuss its merits, now that you've had the chance to see it all play out.

Hm? Don't tell me...

Are you surprised to see me?

If that is the case, then you really shouldn't be. I am the quintessential narrator of these programs we view together. That much should be common knowledge.

I've been here since the very beginning, though whose beginning might be up for debate. It all depends on the order in which you've opted to experience this.

Hopefully your decision was a comfortable one. I know, more than anyone else, how exhausting it is to follow the footsteps of events that, in the moment, come off as extraneous.

I can assure you that is not the case for those linked to Operation Snowbound Blood, however. No, their mission is just as crucial to our grander narrative as everything else.

Surely that much is obvious if you've followed me this far. I would hope so, at least!

Now that we find ourselves here, I get the distinct feeling you'd appreciate further insight into this world and the trolls we've grown familiar with.

I'd truly like to thank you for going through this story by my side. Or remembering what I previously had to say about it, perhaps?

Almost every step that these actors take, entangled in this intricate web of relevance, are ones I've recorded for posterity.

Not to say that I haven't seen it all play out before. The Hyperthetical's equilibrium is none too kind to linearity of any sort. In fact, I've often had to make time to intersperse it between my current analyses and necessary viewings.

As I said, I am not entirely sure what context you've already experienced, but I can only imagine it's been equally as fickle and unimaginably hard to navigate on your end.

But that is what makes the viewership — the catharsis of witnessing these intertwining paths as they develop — as rewarding as they are intriguing.

It's why we take the time to evaluate multiple perspectives. To see the world from various angles is to give life to those who inhabit it.

And it is only fair that everyone involved is given their fair shake. Myself included, of course.

What about me, you say? Well, I'm not sure how much I am at liberty to disclose. We could be anywhere, couldn't we? I'd hate to tell you something you already know.

Or worse yet, something you don't.

What I will say is that even after having gone through what's available to me endless times over, I struggle to understand all of these events. I simply know they happen.

Lingering questions have me in their grip, and until I answer them... Well, let's just say my food for thought has turned into a buffet fit for a glutton.

Always working with assumptions and percentages, I am. The job truly never does get any easier.

At present, I find myself most curious about what this means for my greater mission. How it shall loop back around into the whole of what must be done to reach our best possible outcome.

I wonder what Secily herself would have thought about it?

It's not easy to speak for what's on another person's mind. But that's part of the fun! To extrapolate on what we know, and try to guess what happens next.

Hm... I feel there are still portions missing from my current context. That certain scenes have passed me by, or simply haven't occurred at all from my perspective.

My television has been having technical difficulties of late...

Ah, but I'm sure that's just my audience's way of telling me to slow down. They'll rerun it themselves when the moment is right.

Perhaps it's for the best. My friends always say I need to give myself a break. I then have to remind them that breaking bones is painful and bad for your health. Hahaha.

Unfortunately, as much as I'd love to stay and exposit for my amusement, the next show is about to air.

It stars twelve aspect holders you might have seen before, along with a few intermissions hosted by yours truly.

But fret not, dear viewer. Our parting is only such via the smallest technicality. I still have quite a while until I reach my limit, so let's enjoy each other's company to the fullest while we can.

I know you've always loved my stories. I'd love nothing more than to continue relaying them to you.

Now, on to business: before you, I proffer a final set of choices. It will send you to one of the several destinations I've mapped, where this journey is best settled.

Do choose wisely. I'd hate for you to be lost among the many branches of the probable. There are some less than savory interlopers who tread around those parts, so keep your best foot forward.

>The beginning of our story.

>When operation Snowbound Blood is first mentioned.

>The introduction of the secondary cast into our main program.

>My final summary of the events you've just witnessed.

Excellent choice.

Adieu for now. I look forward to meeting you again.

Somewhere, sometime, same channel.

END